


Rebirth: The Story of a Man Who Died Twice

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Silence, post 3.14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: It had always been Jim.Alpha and Omega, light and darkness, life and death.His beginning and ending.[Spoilers for 3.14!]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pansaralance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansaralance/gifts).



> The idea of Jim comforting Oswald after the events of the winter finale wouldn't leave me, so I had to write it. Special thanks to shutupanddiehl on tumblr for letting me use her idea of Jim seeing Ed shoot Oswald on the docks, and remembering Oswald's words from his hallucination. Shotout to skeleton_twins for being a wonderful cheerleader and Nekomata58919 for the beta! <3
> 
> I made a playlist to help me get into the mood, you can find it [HERE](https://open.spotify.com/user/21x2oll3jwkufsrk2x6vy3kdq/playlist/6XrmU3lQQMma9F8FkOWSoh).

 

It had always been Jim.

 

Alpha and Omega, light and darkness, life and death.

 

His beginning and ending.

 

Oswald was barely conscious, but he knew that the strong hands lifting him from the freezing waters belonged to Jim Gordon.

 

He felt no cold, no pain in his chest, just life seeping into him where Jim’s hands touched his face.

 

“Hold on to me.”

 

And Oswald did.

 

* * *

  

From afar, through the curtain of rain, he could see Nygma in a suit just as green as his jealousy, pointing his gun at a shaking Oswald. Jim wanted to scream, but just like in his nightmares about his father’s crash, his voice wouldn’t come. The world was grey and mute for a moment, the gunshot finally breaking the silence.

 

Did he go after Nygma or try to get Oswald out of the water? Could he save Oswald?

 

_Never leave your unit behind._

 

The words pierced through Jim’s mind, and he was already running to the water, heart in his mouth.

 

He’d never let Oswald down again.

 

* * *

 

 

“He’ll live, don’t worry.”

 

“But the gunshot...”

 

“Didn’t affect any major organs. The gun’s calibre was small. Besides, you got him to the hospital in time, so the blood loss wasn’t that bad.”

 

Remembering the state of his car’s backseat, Jim almost disagreed, but he nodded instead. “You have my number. Let me know if there’s any change.”

 

As he left the hospital, Jim breathed out with relief. He knew he had done the right thing.

 

* * *

 

 

“You won’t press charges then?” Jim asked a few days later.

 

Oswald shook his head.

 

Jim sighed; he hadn’t told Oswald that he’d seen the shooting. Remembering the two books under his arms, he placed them on the nightstand. “Some reading, if you get bored.”

 

Oswald just stared at him with wide eyes, Jim nodding before he left.

 

* * *

  

“What are you doing here, Jim?”

 

Oswald was lying on the sofa in front of the fireplace, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

 

“I brought tea. For you. I’m more into coffee.”

 

Without looking at the detective, Oswald sat up slowly, wincing slightly. “Thanks.”

 

They remained in silence, only the fire crackling from time to time.

 

After taking a sip, Oswald stated quietly: “I’m still not pressing charges.”

 

“I know.”

 

They both sat with heavy hearts.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t you miss the mayoral seat?”

 

“Not at all. I mostly have bad memories. Or well, they have been tainted by…”

 

That was the first time Oswald made a reference, even though indirect, to Nygma, and both were hyper aware of it. The GCPD had made huge efforts to find him, but he was too clever. Nevertheless, his green question marks felt like a slap every time Jim saw them in the city.

 

“Shame. I thought you were a pretty good mayor.”

 

Oswald blushed, and Jim reckoned it as a small victory. There was hope left. As the sun was setting down, they watched the ducks swim in the pond.

 

* * *

 

It took Jim weeks and the flaunting of his position a few times, but he finally located the remains of Elijah van Dahl. It had been Gabe who had told Jim about Oswald’s grief, on one of his customary visits. The detective clenched his fists, and was determined to set out completely against Nygma, but then he remembered that he had chosen Oswald at the dock.

 

When Jim told Oswald the news, the former gangster left the room for a minute to compose himself. Jim stood aside as Oswald opened the bag with trembling hands, touching the skull carefully.

 

“Thank you, Jim,” Oswald whispered, and for the first time since his second drowning, he looked the detective in the eye.

 

No declaration or reiteration of friendship, but Jim didn’t expect one.

 

* * *

 

 

After the priest left, it was just Oswald and Jim standing by the grave, watching as the coffin was lowered into the ground. It was raining heavily, thunder rolling in the distance. Oswald threw a bouquet of pink carnations on the top, then the grave was filled with the wet soil.

 

Jim put his left hand on Oswald’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. Oswald let out a puff of warm breath in the cold air.

 

The raindrops trickled down on Elijah and Gertrud’s common tombstone. 

 

“They’re finally together.”

 

* * *

 

  

“Jim.”

 

The detective looked up sharply from the newspaper – Oswald’s voice was quieter than usual.

 

“I… I wanted you to have these. They used to belong to my father.”

 

Jim took the pair of black leather gloves from Oswald. He swallowed as he examined the soft material, then put them on.

 

“Perfect fit.”

 

Oswald smiled slightly, for the first time in many weeks.

 

It didn’t hurt anymore. Not that much.

 

* * *

  

Oswald had become a hermit since the shooting. Jim didn’t blame him, but tried to gently coerce him to leave the house now and then.

 

“But there’s snow,” Oswald grunted out.

 

“We’re not going far.”

 

Jim led them to the lake that was only ten minutes away. Oswald seemed in low spirits on their way, until Jim put on the gloves he’d received from Oswald. The frozen, white landscape glinted in the sunshine, the whiteness overwhelming.

 

On their way back, Oswald slipped on ice, but Jim caught him in time.

 

“Careful. There’s no reason to hurry.”

 

Oswald thought his chest would burst with Jim’s goodness, especially when Jim’s hand stayed on his arm, never letting go.

 

“Are you alright? You seem out of breath.”

 

“My… my wound hurts.”

 

“Let me see.”

 

Oswald opened his coat, only to reveal that his wound had reopened and bloodied his shirt. Red stark against white.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake, it’s been two months…”

 

“It’s alright. These things need time to heal properly,” Jim said, his fingers lingering on Oswald’s chest.

 

Oswald sighed.

 

“Let’s get it redressed.”

 

* * *

 

One afternoon, Jim noticed a large box at Oswald’s gate. He went closer to inspect it: there were all kinds of knick-knacks and clothes, and as he looked deeper, it was evident that these things used to belong to Nygma. There was a pair of glasses broken in two.

 

As always, Oswald didn’t say anything when Jim appeared in his room, but the detective could see a sparkle in his eyes, and that was enough for him.

 

“I saw the box outside.”

 

Oswald’s hand trembled slightly as he handed Jim his cup of coffee.

 

“Yes, well, I had to get rid of the garbage, don’t you think?”

 

Jim smiled slightly, and put his hands around the hot cup, so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out for Oswald’s slender fingers.

 

* * *

  

It was past ten o’clock by the time Jim arrived at the mansion. Normally, he’d schedule his visits at a more proper hour, but he had been working, and things didn’t go exactly well. He had to see Oswald, even if only for a minute.

 

“Jim… what happened to you?”

 

“I… We were chasing a… criminal.”

 

“And you had a fistfight?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Oswald handed Jim a pack of ice for his bruised jaw.

 

“It was _him_ , wasn’t it?”

 

“I don’t know who y-”

 

“Come on, Jim, you know perfectly well whom I mean! I’m not fragile, I won’t break just at the mentioning of his name.”

 

“I didn’t want you to worry about his return.”

 

“I’m not. I’ll gut him next time,” but Oswald’s voice was already hysterical.

 

“Oswald…”

 

“I’ll do it, Jim, I’ll open him up and let him bleed out, like he left me.”

 

Jim flinched as Oswald threw a vase against the wall, but he didn’t say anything, deciding it was best to let Oswald calm down.

 

“And you, _detective_ , you with your silence that just makes me want to climb the walls. I don’t need your pity!”

 

“I’m not here because I pity you.”

 

Tears escaped from Oswald’s eyes.

 

“Don’t you wish you would have let me drown?”

 

“Never.”

 

Jim opened his arms as Oswald launched himself at him, clinging to Jim and sobbing into his chest. When Oswald’s anger had evaporated and his tears had dried up, Jim pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

 

“You’ll be alright.”

 

* * *

 

 

It had always been Jim.

 

Alpha and Omega, light and darkness, life and death.

 

His beginning and ending.

 

Every cell in Oswald’s body was aware of the fact that the strong hands lifting him from the waves of darkness belonged to Jim Gordon.

 

He felt no cold, no pain in his chest, just life seeping into him where Jim’s hands touched his face.

 

Oswald’s voice quivered.

 

 “Hold on to me.”

 

And Jim did.


End file.
